Cathexis: Conspirator's Coin

By Philip Blood

Cathexis is a four book epic fantasy series. It is high fantasy, based on true good and evil. In the second book, Conspirator's Coin, the epic saga of the Ardellen family continues. Much of the world is aligned against them, and they must go through the darkness before reaching the epic conclusion in the fourth and final novel of the Cathexis Series. This second book begins with the forging of a young boy learning to tap the power of his aura, but as the story continues through the series more and more is revealed until everything is wrapped up into a Gordian knot that will all be resolved in the grand climax. Join the Ardellen family on this exciting action packed adventure. Wars, magic battles, ancient evil, alternate planes of existence, horrid creatures and dark plots all tangled in a battle for control of the world. This is high fantasy with the darkest of evil against the purest of good. Love, sacrifice, friendship, revenge, betrayal, and triumph all wrapped up in one massive tale. Come join the Ardellens and experience the world of Cathexis as the story continues to unfold in book two, Conspirator's Coin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Philip Blood
• Release date: Apr 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458054937

Philip Blood

Philip Blood is a published author currently living in the Los Angeles suburbs. He is an avid scuba diver, a voracious reader of sci-fi and fantasy, a tabletop gamer (from way back), and a computer game junkie with MMOs being the top of his list.Mr. Blood recently finished the third and final novel in his Zone series, this one called Brethren of the Ark and will soon publish book 9 in his urban fantasy series, The Archimage Wars: Warlok of Sheol. Book 1 through 8 are all available now with just one more to come to finish the series. Book 10 will be finished by the end of 2020. In addition, he works on creating Audio Plays for his novels, with five already available and more to come!He also recently went back to his very first fantasy epic series, Cathexis, and did a deep re-write, fixing may of the writing issues of a young author (he wrote it 30 years ago) while leaving the story intact. All four books have been re-written and are now available in ebooks or print versions.Finally, Mr. Blood has begun outlining a new, more traditional, fantasy epic, which he will start writing in 2021. The series is called, Kingdoms of Magic.

Book preview

CATHEXIS

Book Two

Conspirator’s Coin

by

Philip Blood

Version 6.00

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PUBLISHED BY:

Philip Blood

Cathexis: Conspirator’s Coin

Copyright © 2011 by Philip Blood

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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Dedication

To quote Mara, a character from my NexLord series, Home is where your friends are, this is only a place. I would like to dedicate this second novel, the darkest of the whole series, to my friends who have always been there through my darkest times. Each friend named here helped me in their own way to write these novels. Here are some of those friends in no particular order: Todd Blood, Ron DeRuyter, Scott Blood, Rhonda St. Laurent, Dan Althouse, Karl Van Allen, Brian Tasse, Will Ware, Marianne Wilhelm, Philip R. Blood, Dixie Blood.

Speaking of my parents, when I was eleven to thirteen, there were two boarding schools in Europe that I attended. One was in Holland, called Rhederoord, and the other was in Germany, called Prince Rupert. Both of these places and the people who were there at the time were the inspiration for the Kirnath School in Conspirator’s Coin. So, if you were there with me, as a teacher or student, part of this dedication is to you, as well.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

Conspirator’s Coin is the second novel in the Cathexis series. It begins with a history that tells what happened in the first book, Necromancer’s Dagger. This is only meant as a reminder of what happened. I highly recommend that you read the first novel before reading Conspirator’s Coin or this history will spoil the story for you without giving you all the details you need to enjoy the story. However, if you have already read Necromancer’s Dagger and you want a reminder of what happened… here you go, otherwise, you can skip to the Prologue – Andreg.

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FROM THE HISTORIES OF THE ARDELLEN FAMILY – (Recap of Book 1)

And so, it came to pass, that three conspirators plotted the murder of Lord Jatar's spirit and the theft of his body and throne. The three conspirators were a Necromancer wielding the powers of the Dark Plane and a cathexis dagger, a Tchulian commander with hidden aura powers, and a third conspirator who remains unknown, but is suspected to be one of Lord Jatar's foster brothers.

Their plot provisionally succeeded when Lord Jatar's body was inhabited by the necromancer named CAracusS, but the Darknull did not consume Jatar's soul and Lady Elizabeth Ardellen and Lord Jatar's designated heir, one-year-old Michael, escaped into the forest with his six Knight Protectors.

Nearing the protection of the Kirnath School, Michael and Elizabeth were again attacked by a Darknull creature sent by the necromancer CAracusS. Elizabeth channeled Michael's incredible aura potential through her body and killed the horrible creature. Then she left her son at the Kirnath School gate with a note that said he was only a peasant whose parents were dead. She parted from him physically but left her son with a cathexis earring that bore the imprint of her mind so she could guide and teach him while he grew up in safety at the school.

Two of the Knight Protectors, Gustin and Drake, secretly stayed at the school to watch over Michael, taking on the jobs of a blacksmith and a stable hand.

Elizabeth sent three more of the Knight Protectors to search for Jatar's cousin, G'Taklar Ardellen. Led by Becaris, the son of a Lindankar noble and accompanied by the twins, Lasar and Rasal, the three knights headed toward far Zinterdalin to find G'Taklar and bring Jatar's cathexis signet ring to his wife's hand.

While returning from his first embassy to Zinterdalin, G'Taklar was attacked by a Tchulian ambush and captured. He swallowed the signet ring to keep it from being found. Captured, he woke in a cell deep under the keep of a Tchulian desert outpost. The young man discovered that Jatar's soul had joined the imprint in the cathexis ring, meaning that Jatar had died. Jatar's spirit, speaking through the ring, helped his cousin escape the cell and go down into the caverns of the mountain’s roots. There, G'Taklar met one of the surviving creatures of Vorg the Desecrator's Soul dead, a two-headed monster named, Ebemoon/Halvisun. During the good head's cycle of control, Halvisun helped G'Taklar escape the brain-eating head, Ebemoon. Once out of the caverns, G’Taklar went to the nearby garrison town of Headwater. There he met an orphan girl, named Rachael, who helped him escape the Tchulian army. Together, with a Tchulian Sergeant and his soldiers hot on their trail, the two young people fled into the desert.

Hunting for G'Taklar, the three Knight Protectors, Becaris, Lasar, and Rasal arrived in Headwater. There they discovered a message to a Tchulian officer naming one of Lord Jatar's three foster brothers: Lord Pellev Welter, Lord Verdew Kestle, or Lord Berelle Trask, as the third conspirator in the plot to murder Lord Jatar.

Meanwhile, during their flight from the Tchulian soldiers, G'Taklar and Rachael discovered the ancient tomb of Vorg the Desecrator and fell into one of the chambers. Sergeant Herms and his men caught up with them there, but the two young people managed to escape with the help of the three Knight Protectors who arrived just in time.

G'Taklar unwittingly lost Jatar's signet ring which he had secreted in the hilt of an ancient dagger for safety. Sergeant Herms picked up the ancient dagger without knowing that an incredibly valuable cathexis artifact was hidden within the dagger's hilt.

Elizabeth and Hetark traveled to a town called Roper and recruited a female bodyguard, named Poison. By luck, she turned out to look very much like Elizabeth. The Kirnath sorceress studied the girl using her powers to learn to speak, fight, and act like the tough street girl. They become friends along the way. Poison and Hetark fought continually, however they eventually came to like one another.

Pretending to be Poison, Elizabeth joined the Riond Mountain bandits. There, she managed to gain the trust of many of the bandits. Eventually, she killed the murderous lieutenant Razor in a knife battle. She discovered that Wernok, the bandit leader, was under the pay of the Necromancer RIveK, the hated wife of the Necromancer CAracusS who inhabits Lord Jatar's body.

Assigned by the secret necromantic council to kill the Kirnath sorceress, RIveK had been seeking Elizabeth and her son. RIveK murdered a street gang of urchins in her quest to find Elizabeth, though one little girl escaped. RIveK, along with another necromancer, named SCorcH, tracked Elizabeth to Myrnvale where they mistakenly thought they had caught up with the Kirnath sorceress. Instead, they mistook Poison for Elizabeth. She was waiting with Hetark for Elizabeth to contact them from the bandit camp.

Poison was warned by the surviving street urchin that a necromancer was coming, but the warning came too late. SCorcH mortally wounded Poison though the street urchin escaped. RIveK then arrived and betrayed her colleague, destroying his body with magic from the Dark Plane. Because of his necromantic connection to the Dark Plane, SCorcH's head still lived and RIveK took it with her when she departed. However, RIveK still thought that Poison was Elizabeth so, before departing, RIveK slowed the process of Poison’s death down to allow herself time to get far from the scene of SCorcH’s demise. She didn’t want to be blamed by the rest of the council for SCorcH's murder, she intended them to blame Elizabeth.

Hetark found the wounded Poison and took her to the Riond bandits, arriving in time for Elizabeth to save Poison's life. Along the way, he met up with the other three Knight Protectors, returning from their rescue of G'Taklar.

Elizabeth exposed the traitor, Wernok, to the bandits, telling them that their leader worked for a necromancer. The bandits hung their one-time leader from Traitor's Tree and chose Elizabeth as their next commander. She revealed that she is of the royal blood of Autrany's ruling family and started the bandits on the path of rebellion against the Usurper who had taken their country by force.

Wernok's master, RIveK, arrived at that point, traveling in her projected form. At the bandit camp, she finally discovered that she had mistakenly thought Poison was Elizabeth. RIveK and the Kirnath Sorceress battled by arcane means and Elizabeth nearly destroyed RIveK's projected spirit. However, at the last moment, RIveK managed to return to her body in Myrnvale.

G'Taklar discovered that he had lost the dagger containing Jatar's cathexis Signet Ring. He swore an oath to find the signet ring before returning to Elizabeth. Rachael decided to accompany him, after revealing that she had fallen in love with the young noble. And now…

CATHEXIS

Book Two

Conspirator’s Coin

PROLOGUE: ANDREG

Hate and fear mixed explosively in the cauldron of RIveK's mind. Unfortunately, that meant gruesome death for some unfortunate soul.

Rage twisted the necromancer's beautiful face into a repulsive mockery of the original. As the enraged necromancer passed a mirror in her hotel room, she caught sight of her missing piece of skull; the red and blue veins covering her exposed gray brain pulsed heavily in rhythm with the pounding of her heart. Though at times she displayed the old wound like a badge of office, in truth she hated the disfiguring trauma suffered in her first battle to subjugate a Darknull.

RIveK obliterated the reflection with a sharp blow from her clenched fist and the broken glass from the smashed mirror sliced open the skin of her knuckles. Shards of glass cascaded to the floor like the broken pieces of her recent plan.

I'll kill that bitch! RIveK screeched, grabbing handfuls of her flaming red hair and yanking hard. She wanted to hurt someone, even herself, but the face that shown before her hate-filled mind's eye was that of the proud sorceress, Elizabeth Ardellen.

Only moments before, the Kirnath sorceress had destroyed RIveK's carefully designed plans to obliterate the remaining Autrany rebels by nearly destroying the necromancer with her aura powers. RIveK's hatred for Elizabeth was nearly a tangible thing.

Though her mind seethed with hatred, fear suddenly struck, she would have to explain to the necromantic council about her complicity in the murder of her colleague, SCorcH. The truth was, she had set up her despised colleague to be rid of him, but when the ambush went astray, RIveK had been forced to step in and attack her fellow councilman. Afterward, she cut SCorcH's unnaturally living head from his destroyed body for a trophy. She knew that she would also have to explain her failure to kill Lady Ardellen and her son, the heir to the Lindankar throne. RIveK did not fear many things, but for her recent failures and the breaking of the Council's decrees, they might feed her soul to the dread beasts of darkness. RIveK did not fear death, but she feared that they would kill her before she got her revenge on her husband, the necromancer named CAracusS. RIveK lived for revenge and now she added Lady Ardellen to her death list, just under her husband’s name at the top.

She stormed from her room in a Myrnvale hotel looking for someone or something on which to vent her anger and frustration. The first person she saw was another hotel guest leaving her room, a young woman carrying a tightly wrapped baby.

How appropriate, RIveK thought, picturing Lady Ardellen and her son. The enraged necromancer descended on the innocent woman like a flutter of prey on a helpless furry hopper.

The woman turned and noticed the necromancer's approach. She immediately spotted the demented glare projecting from RIveK's green swirling eyes and the necromancer’s blood-streaked hand rising upwards. The frightened woman backed away and turned her slim body to shield her baby from the awful presence of insanity.

RIveK's powers were weak from her battle with the sorceress, so she reached forward to absorb the woman and child's life energy. Her touch would kill them, yet that was of no concern to RIveK. Their deaths would help satisfy her rage and replenish her necromantic powers in the process. When her hand neared the terrified woman's face, RIveK suddenly stopped and a triumphant smile broke through her twisted mask of anger.

The change did not reassure the mother who backed up against the wall, trying to get as far as possible from the insane woman and her sick smile. Through RIveK's red hair, the woman could see the missing ear and piece of skull that exposed the network of pulsing veins over the Necromancer's brain. The horrid sight increased the mother's fear of this clearly deranged woman.

RIveK suddenly began laughing; the answer to her dilemma was right before her in this corridor.

A child! she exclaimed in delight.

The mother shuddered and turned sideways to shield her baby even further.

Still chortling with evil mirth, RIveK finished extending her hand and touched the woman's forehead. The mother's spirit was painfully ripped from her brain, her life's energy absorbed through the Necromancer's fingers.

The woman died painfully, collapsing to the floor of the hall as if the bones had been removed from her body. The little boy started crying from the impact of the ground, but his cries soon ceased when RIveK's murderous hand sucked the life force from his tiny body, snuffing him out like a candle.

Five more people died before RIveK reached the main door and exited the hotel.

A week later, RIveK reached Tarnelin, the Capital of Lindankar, and home of her hated husband, CAracusS. He currently ruled in Lindankar, courtesy of the body he had secretly stolen from the deposed ruler, Lord Jatar Ardellen.

RIveK had combed her long flaming red hair over the left side of her head, hiding her peeled piece of skull. At the entrance to the palace, she announced herself to the guards as the Lady Rivark, Ambassador from the far southern country of Sadain.

After a short delay, she was admitted for an immediate audience with Lord Jatar, ruler of Lindankar.

CAracusS had her brought to his private chambers, which did not amaze the guards at all. In the last few weeks, Lord Jatar had become famous for entertaining women, from chambermaids to other men's wives, and this ambassador was stunningly beautiful. They would have been surprised to find out that she was his true wife.

RIveK, how nice to see you, CAracusS lied and his tone was questioning.

Yes, I know, you are surprised to see me here, she replied and started removing her coat. I had some time and thought you would like to be brought up to date. As she spoke, she strolled through the first chamber and into his large bedroom.

He followed her with a puzzled expression on Lord Jatar’s face and said, Of course, I am delighted to see you, and his words carried heavy sarcasm, but to what ‘honor’ should I assign your physical presence? he asked, tongue in cheek. He was puzzled as to why his hated wife had come in the flesh instead of projection. He knew his hate for her was reflected doubly by RIveK.

She turned to face her husband and said, It occurred to me that, because of certain physical impossibilities with your old body, we never made it to the nuptial bed, but now you have the working equipment to indulge yourself. Or is Jatar's body incapable as well? she inquired, dropping the last of her clothes. Her perfect white skin shown in the light of the sunbeam angling through the white curtains, the points of her breasts jutted toward him, like the tips of arrows.

Stepping forward, out of the beam of light, she turned sideways, silhouetting her profile in the sunlight. His eyes followed the rounded contours of her body, the sweep of her back as it curved in at her slim waist, the perfect curve at the swelling of her buttocks.

He was instantly wary; no one in this world hated him more than his wife and this behavior was extremely odd. No doubt she planned to kill him, somehow.

But RIveK walked toward him in a sultry stroll and, when she neared Lord Jatar’s body, she lifted his left hand with one of hers and placed it on her soft breast as she said, You became a hideous creature the day we were married… but this body of Jatar’s… is handsome. I owe that bitch wife of his, so I want to taste her husband’s body to spite her to the core.

Now, this was something that CAracusS could understand from RIveK, she didn’t want him, she wanted Jatar’s body to hurt Elizabeth Ardellen.

He tightened his hand on her soft breast, squeezing down on it to the point where he caused her acute pain, but RIveK just smiled and asked, Will you take your matrimonial right?

Jatar's manly body responded to the stimulus that RIveK was purposely projecting. RIveK reached for his shirt and practically tore off his clothes. When he was naked, she pulled him down to the floor, disdaining to even move a few feet to the bed. Once he was down, she straddled him quickly and took him hard on the animal fur rug. She did not kiss or caress him in any way; she just brought him to a conclusion as fast as possible, like two animals in heat.

When he finished, she stood and straddled his supine body.

CAracusS looked up at her with a contented smile on Jatar's face.

She smiled back wickedly as she said, I hope you enjoyed your matrimonial rights, it's the last time you will ever exercise them. I must tell you; it did nothing for me, and throwing her head back she howled in laughter at her jest.

He started to get up with an angry expression coming over his face.

Her laughter cut off abruptly and she looked back down, freezing his movement with a glare. I'll be leaving, now that I have what I want within me, the heir to the Lindankar throne. His name will be Andreg and he will replace you on this throne. And when Elizabeth finds out I have a child from her husband's body, my revenge will be complete. Until the day I kill her, she will have to live with the thought of me lying with her husband. Even more satisfyingly, you will know that my son will take your place when I kill you!

Then she thought, And now that I carry the heir to the Lindankar throne, the council will not touch me; my son will be too valuable to them when it comes time to remove CAracusS.

She spoke imperiously to her husband, What I, and the rest of the council, will require of you is this, soon you will announce that Jatar has taken me as his bride and then I will produce the new Ardellen heir.

Still laughing at the stupefied expression on the naked CAracusS below, she put on her clothes and then left the palace.

CAracusS was mortified that she had played him so easily, but his dark hatred caught a new thought, We'll see who gets the last laugh, my wife. I will go along with your plan, yet when it comes time for the heir to take the throne, I will take your son’s body, as I took Jatar's. Reaching over, he pulled the cathexis dagger from its sheath and stared at the perfect blade. Then it was his turn to laugh.

Nine months later, Andreg was born. For the next ten years, RIveK raised her son. She made occasional appearances with him in Lindankar, as Jatar's wife, to get the populace used to the new heir. However, most of the time, she stayed in recluse at the castle within her demesnes.

CHAPTER ONE: STEFFAN

His name was Steffan. He knew it because his stepmother was always yelling his name when she was angry, which was most of the time. Steffan wash your hands. Steffan, scrub the floor. Steffan, stop fidgeting. No matter how much he accomplished, his stepmother always told him he was shiftless. To her, there were only two possible states, physical labor or idleness. If you weren't actively working you were being worthlessly lazy.

At the age of eleven Steffan craved knowledge, he had so many questions and so few answers, but every time his stepmother caught him thinking she beat him with a switch and made him scrub the scullery floor, or clean out a hearth, or empty the chamber pots.

Actually, he did not mind emptying the pots; it gave him the chance to move around The School. He got to see the rooms where the Students lived or the even more interesting rooms of the teachers. When he passed down the hallways, sometimes he could stop for a few moments to listen in to the classes being taught that day.

And today he was lucky; Steffan had finished early with the chamber pots so he had a little time before his stepmother would check up on his progress. Going down one of the long hallways all made of dark varnished wood, he paused outside a classroom and peeked in through the crack of the doorjamb. He could see a few children sitting in a circle on the floor. They were looking up at the teacher who sat on a stool in the center. She was holding a small black-furred purclaw.

Steffan wished he were sitting with the children in the room, they looked like they were having fun and not one of them was lifting a finger or being scolded for their idleness.

The young boy listened to the teacher instructing the students, Concentrate and keep your eyes closed. Now push the walls of your aura out gently and expand it in a perfect globe. Remember that a globe is the strongest shape. Can you feel the purclaw and see her aura? What are her colors right now? What do those colors tell you she is feeling?

A child answered each of the teacher’s questions and she only corrected the last boy who thought the purclaw was unhappy. The teacher explained the multiple colors of its aura and their meanings to the children.

Steffan was fascinated, though he could not see these colors of which the teacher spoke. Suddenly he heard footsteps coming, so he quickly turned and ran to keep from being seen listening and peeking into the classroom. Rounding the next corner of the hall, he ran smack into an older boy coming the other way. This student's name was Smeil and he was quite large for his thirteen years of age. Steffan bounced off and landed on the ground.

Watch where you're running, peasant boy! I'll teach you to touch your betters, Smeil exclaimed and gave Steffan a kick in the side to emphasize his point. Then the larger boy stomped away, muttering, Worthless drudge!

Steffan climbed back to his feet. He did not even consider standing up to Smeil; he was a Student. If his stepmother found out he was fighting with a student, she would shred his hide with a switch.

The young boy was used to the abuse, Smeil and some of the other kids made fun of him whenever they noticed he was around. He wished he could be a Student; he wanted to learn so badly. Feeling downtrodden, he estimated that he still had a little time before his stepmother would come looking for him, so Steffan decided to go see one of his only friends, a stable hand. The boy often went there to see him when he felt troubled.

Steffan found the short stable hand in the loft of the barn undoing bundles of hay to feed the horses. The young boy immediately began helping with the bundles. Steffan was only a small lad, so his actual aid was negligible, but the stable hand smiled when he saw the youngster and made room for him to work.

Steffan figured that it was best to help with the task, that way if Gretchen found him here at least he would be working, which might save him a thrashing.

The stable hand watched Steffan from the corner of his eye. He knew that the boy was troubled, he could see it in the serious expression fixed on his young face. However, he was patient. He knew that the boy would get around to the issue in his own time; he was a real thinker and worried a problem until he had it molded to his liking.

Finally, Steffan asked, Dirk, why do the other children hate me?

I think you're exaggerating. Not all the other children hate you; they just don't know you, the small man responded.

Smeil hates me and his friends hate me, Steffan replied in defense.

Dirk answered with a bit of disgust, Smeil is a pompous dolt, the son of a minor noble who thinks the world owes him homage.

What's a Pop us dolt? Steffan asked, perplexed.

Pompous, it means he's full of himself and thinks that because he is the son of a noble that he's better than the rest of you, Dirk explained.

I wish I were smart enough to be a student instead of a dumb drudge. Perhaps Smeil is right, I'm just too stupid to go to school, Steffan noted in depression.

Nonsense, isn't there some part of you that explains things and tells you when you'll be ready? Dirk asked, watching Steffan intently.

No, I think I'll be a drudge forever; the other children are the lucky ones, Steffan lamented.

The stable hand was puzzled. After a moment of thought, he asked Steffan a question. What do you know about how you came to this school?

I don't want to talk about that! My parents left me here; they didn't like me either, the young boy answered quietly, tears forming in his eyes.

I'm sure that's not true, the stable hand replied in a reassuring tone. I have a suggestion for you, why don't you ask your stepmother about the day you came to the school, perhaps you'll learn something of interest.

She'll just make me scrub out the hearth, the young boy said quietly, wiping away the half-formed tears with the back of his hand.

Come on, perhaps you will find out something that will make you feel better. Ask your stepmother about your past and maybe you’ll be surprised.

Gretchen won't tell me anyway, she doesn't think it is important, Steffan explained.

Do something she likes; people are always more receptive when they are pleased.

Gretchen's never pleased with me, she always thinks I'm lazy, the young boy complained, lowering his head in resignation.

There must be something you could do to make her happy, Dirk prompted.

I could clean out her hearth, without her asking, maybe then she might not be angry with me, Steffan decided.

Good, why don't you do that now and then ask her nicely about the day you were found.

If you think it will help, then I'll do it. Thanks, Dirk, little Steffan said, running out of the stable on his mission.

Dirk watched him go, a little concerned about the troubled boy.

For the next two bells, Steffan was on his knees working. He'd scooped out the old ashes and disposed of them, then used a thick bristle brush and bucket of water to scrub on the soot stains. He finished putting away the cleaning tools and loaded fresh firewood. Then he removed the withes from a faggot and stuffed some of the sticks underneath the rack as kindling. He just finished when he heard Gretchen calling his name.

Steffan, where are you? I better not find you sitting around on your butt… Steffan? she called out shrilly, searching the house for her adopted son.

I'm in here, he called back and went to meet her in the hallway.

Good, did you finish cleaning out all the pots? she demanded, shaking a finger at him and expecting him to produce an excuse for his failure to complete the job.

Yes, ma'am, I finished all the pots, he answered.

Indeed? Then you can clean the wood basket while I clear the hearth. I want to get it done quickly so I can rest my back, it's sore again, she complained.

Why don't you rest your back now, while I clean out the wood basket? the young boy asked.

Are you daft? I just told you I had to clean the hearth first! she scolded, taking hold of his ear.

I already did it for you, he answered quickly, trying to save his ear from extinction.

What? she stated in astonishment and pulled him along by the ear into the next room so she could inspect the hearth.

When they arrived, she released his ear when she beheld the finished job; the hearth looked immaculate. Well, I’ll be! There may be hope for you yet, boy.

Have a rest in the chair, I'll clean out the basket, he advised again.

Shaking her natty gray-haired head in bewilderment, the middle-aged woman sat her bony body in the chair facing the hearth.

Steffan started pulling out the chips of wood and placing them on a cloth. Can we talk while I work?

What's there to talk about? the drudge asked, her eyes closed.

How did you become my stepmother? he asked straight out.

They found you at the gate and told me to take care of you.

That's it, they just found me abandoned? he asked, sad that his parents did not care about him enough to raise him as their child.

Yes, in a blanket, without anything... well, almost. she half-explained.

Thank you for telling me, stepmother, he said, his voice lowered sadly. Then he asked, without much hope, You mentioned that there was something else... besides the blanket?

Hearing the sorrow in his voice Gretchen found herself feeling a little sorry for the boy, so she explained, There was a note; I think I still have it in a box.

A note? he asked, his eyes lifting.

She shrugged, It won't make you happy to read it.

I would like to, just the same, he answered softly.

Gretchen returned with a wooden box. She opened the lid and took out a rough horse blanket.

This is the blanket you were wrapped in; it's a horse mat, she explained, unnecessarily. Then she placed it on the floor by her chair.

The young boy picked up the coarse blanket, it was the only link he had to his real parents. He held it almost reverently. The boy was so absorbed in touching the blanket that he did not notice her reaching into the box again.

Then Gretchen said, "This note was pinned to your chest. It was written by someone who didn't know their letters well, so it's hard to read. Here, I'll read it to you:

'Take car o this boi. His ma an pa is deed an e aint got knoen te car fur im, I nowed is perents wel bot I canott take im. His pa gav him the earring, so please let him keep it.

a vilager

an o yeh, he liks goot milc perty fayr'

Steffan's voice choked up as he asked, My parents are dead?

That's what the note says, so I'm sure it must be true.

Oddly, that made Steffan feel a little better, at least they hadn't abandoned him.

Then he asked, What was that part about an earring?

Oh, Gretchen exclaimed in a bit of surprise, I forgot about that! I took it off of you when you were a baby so that you wouldn't hurt yourself.

Can I see it? he asked curiously.

I suppose you're old enough now, though a boy your age shouldn't own anything yet. But I'll let you see it since you seem interested. She dug around in the box and lifted out something small and shiny. Then she held it up and explained, This was pierced through your ear.

He reached out for it so she handed him the simple semi-hoop earring. It was mostly circular but had two small round knobs at the ends where the hoop was parted.

He took the silvery earring from her fingers and turned it over in his hand.

This was in my ear? he asked in a puzzled tone.

Yes, on the right side, though the hole has probably closed up, after all this time, she explained. Enough of this! Do you want to keep it? I should just put it back in this box for safekeeping, she suggested.

Here, he said, handing the blanket back, but he held onto the earring. He had never owned anything other than his ragged clothing and, somehow, he knew this simple piece of jewelry came from his real mother. He figured it was his only connection with the parents he would ever know.

Don't lose it, Gretchen cautioned him, unnecessarily, and then added, Now get back to cleaning the basket, I don't want you lazing around anymore tonight.

Yes, Stepmother, he answered, clutching the earring in his small fist.

The blacksmith pounded the glowing metal on the anvil keeping a constant rhythm with the hammer: clang, ting, ting, ting... clang ting, ting, ting. The only garment he wore over his chest was a leather apron; the heat from the forge kept the room warm. His huge shoulder muscles rippled under his skin with every 'clang' of the heavy hammer as he deftly maneuvered the tongs, molding the hot iron into the shape of his desire, a horseshoe.

Drake came in and waited without speaking for Gustin to finish the shoe. After the big man quenched the hot metal by thrusting it into a bucket of water, he tossed it onto a pile to be finished later.

The boy came to see me this evening, the smaller man said to open their conversation.

And what did our young man have on his mind this time? Gustin inquired.

The same problem; he's depressed and thinks of himself as dim-witted because the other children are in school while he is cleaning up after them. They treat him as a lowly drudge. Why doesn't she speak to him? Drake finally asked, rhetorically.

We don't know how she was going to do it; perhaps she is just waiting for the right age, Gustin offered.

We've discussed it often and, when he was younger, I agreed, but now the other students his age are three years into Kirnath training and he's still scrubbing floors and emptying chamber pots. Something's wrong, Drake insisted.

All right, I agree. What do you think we should do about it? Gustin asked while taking off his apron and putting on a rough cloth jerkin to go out into the cold of the night.

When I talked to him earlier, I suggested that he ask his stepmother about the details of how he was found. Perhaps something went wrong? Maybe she left a magic crystal that needed to be near him for her to communicate across the world. Perhaps the note told them to do something to him or say something that would trigger the communication. I wish she'd told us how she was going to advise him, he lamented, nervously cracking his knuckles one at a time.

OK. Well, if his research doesn't net any results, perhaps one of us should seek out his mother and demand the answer to our mystery, the large man suggested, closing the door to the smithy.

I agree, we should find out what's been happening anyway; we haven't had any news for, let's see, five years since I traveled to Autrany, Drake remembered. His mother just hinted that he would receive instruction at the appropriate times. You know how secretive she is about how she will communicate with the boy.

Let's wait and see if he finds out anything from Gretchen.

All right, but if nothing comes of it, one of us must go to Autrany, replied Drake.

I'd like to go, but they won't let the blacksmith be gone for that length of time. You'll have to make the journey again. Besides, I think you could do with the exercise; have you gotten smaller? Gustin suddenly asked in mock seriousness while looking at Drake's body from head to toe and tilting his head in puzzlement.

Drake ignored the question and immediately quipped back, You know it's late, but you’re looking a little wide around the waist, perhaps we should see about getting you some exercise? If you want a chance to win back your losses, I'll take you on in the barn tonight.

Losses… I recall you cleaning up the smithy last week, Gustin replied.

I let you win! Drake admonished.

Yes, I know how badly you wanted to sweep and such.

Care to try me again? the smaller man asked slyly.

You're on, though maybe I should fight on my knees so I’m down to your height. I'm sure you've gotten smaller, Gustin exclaimed, appraising the compact Drake carefully.

Drake scowled at the big man and answered, To make things fair, I'd offer to fight with half my brain, but that’s kind of difficult.

They headed for the barn and their weapons.

The next morning came early for Steffan. His stepmother had him out carrying buckets of water from the well to the kitchen before the sun rose. His breath shot out in foggy exhalations as he panted with the effort of carrying the heavy bucket.

It was G'lansday so the other children were out of school. In theory, no one was supposed to work on G'lansday, but as Steffan had learned, not all rules apply to everyone.

The well was located in the center of the main courtyard, so Steffan had to carry his bucket back and forth across the worn cobblestones to the back door of the kitchen.

He was nearly done with his early chore; this was the last bucket that the kitchen servants needed. The sun was up and so were a few of the students. Three young girls were jumping rope in one corner of the yard, but they stopped to snicker at the raggedly clothed Steffan struggling with the bucket which was too large and heavy for him to easily carry.

He became aware of them and, being tired, he managed to trip over the bucket when the bottom caught on a high cobblestone. The water went everywhere, including a good dousing of his torn old clothing. As he sprawled out onto the stones, he barked his shin on the bucket, adding injury to insult. Suddenly, the boy wished he was dead. His face went carrot orange in embarrassment and tears of frustration came to his closed eyes.

He could hear the girls laughing from across the courtyard. Since he did not seem to get his wish for the final sleep, he decided to open his eyes and get up off his back.

When his eyes opened, he found himself looking up into the face of a skinny boy, dressed in the smock of a student. Then he revised his estimate, she was a girl, all bones and joints. Her hair was deep red, a good match to his embarrassed face, and she had her thick mop hair cropped short like a boy.

She wore an expression that Steffan had never encountered before from a student, she looked concerned and wore a frown on her face as she asked, Are you all right?

I'm fine, he answered with embarrassment, scrambling to get up. He could still hear the other three girls laughing.

The skinny girl started to pick up the bucket, but Steffan quickly took it by the handle as he stated, I can do it.

Why do they have you working on G'lansday, anyway? she inquired.

My stepmother has chores for me every day, he explained.

That's not right! Today is supposed to be for fun, for relaxing, for worship. You shouldn't have to work, she replied, puzzlement in her small voice.

Excuse me, Miss, but I must get this bucket to the kitchen before my stepmother gets angry with me, he said, heading back to the well to refill the spilled bucket.

Well, I think something is wrong here. I'm going to ask Adept Candes about it, the toothpick shaped girl declared.

Please don't do that! If a Teacher gets involved, I would get in terrible trouble and Gretchen would whip the skin off my bum! Steffan pleaded, stopping in his tracks when she named an Adept.

She would really beat you? All right, I won't say anything. Instead, I'll just help you with that bucket of water, she decided, attempting to take a grip on the handle.

Steffan swung the bucket away and exclaimed, You can't do that; you're a Student!

She laughed and replied, You say that like it’s a magical term. Well, my name is Adrienne and, yes, I'm a student, but that doesn't mean I can't carry a bucket!

It wouldn't be right; it’s not a student’s job.

If you want to hog it all for yourself then fine, but at least tell me your name? she asked.

Steffan, he replied with his head down, ready for ridicule.

That's a nice name, Adrienne replied. Perhaps we could play together, once you've finished your chores? she asked with a perky smile.

I can't; I'm not allowed to bother the students, he explained, unable to meet her eyes. Then he thought of the switch-wielding Gretchen, so he started moving with the bucket again.

You wouldn't be bothering me! Adrienne exclaimed.

Maybe some other time, he said without looking back as he headed for the well, still red in the face.

The young girl shrugged her skinny shoulders and answered, I will hold you to that! See you later, Steffan, and then she skipped off toward one of the large school buildings.

Glancing around to see if anyone had seen him speaking to a student, Steffan went back to the well. After a few moments, he had the bucket full of water again. Leaning to the side to counterbalance the weight of the water in his right hand, he started the trip back across the stone courtyard. This time, he kept his eyes pinned on